


Union of the Crowns moments in my fic

by BritPrus8



Series: Grey Harry Potter Verse [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BritPrus8/pseuds/BritPrus8
Summary: Just a collection of all the EngScot moments in my harry potter/hetalia fic
Relationships: England/Scotland (Hetalia)
Series: Grey Harry Potter Verse [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612672
Kudos: 7





	Union of the Crowns moments in my fic

Arthur was sitting quite happily drinking his first cup of tea for the day, a splash of brandy in it. His lips twitched up into a smile. Last night had been rather entertaining. Honestly, the falsely imprisoned Sirius Black had completely slipped his mind over the past decade. He’d been rather distracted for the past few decades by the fall of his Empire. Soon. Soon his plan would come to fruition. Soon he’d be free.

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts by a whack on the back of his head.

“OW! What was that for?!” Arthur whined rubbing the back of his head.

His half-brother Alistair slammed a newspaper on the table in front of him.

“Whit th' hell is this?”

“I believe it’s a newspaper. A magical one even.” Arthur looked up at him innocently, mouth twitching.

Alistair snarled at him, all teeth

“Oh, get tae fuck. How come Sirius Black’s on the front page?”

“Oh my. It appears that he’s escaped Azkaban. Fascinating.”

“Aye. Tis.”

Alistair’s eyes glowed in anger, wild red hair falling about his face.

Arthur gasped “Oh my! You don’t think that I could have helped in such an endeavour do you!?”

The Scot cocked his head at him. “Ah hae na idea whit ye ur daein' thae days.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him “That implies that you used to know what I was up to. Besides, what reason could I possibly have to free Sirius Black? He’s just one human my dear.”

“Aye. Yin human wha haes given human media a field day in their panicking.”

Arthur couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “It is rather funny isn’t it?”

Alistair picked up the newspaper, rolled it up and hit him again. Arthur just laughed.

“Bampot” Alistair muttered as he stormed off.

“You love me really!!” Arthur shouted after him before collapsing in laughter. His laughing fit did, unfortunately, result in him coughing up blood within a minute. Dying was a pain. Hopefully the afterlife would be worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was afternoon when Arthur received the letter from one of the few wizarding Lords he associated himself with.

“Hey Alister.”

Alistair looked up from the book he was reading “Aye?”

Arthur took a swig from his rum “Apparently the ministry of magic has sent dementors to Hogwarts”

“You already knew this. Why are you bringing it up again?”

“Well yes. But I’ve just received a letter from one of the Lords bringing it up. Not sure why.”

Alistair rolled his eyes at him “You realise that the wizard probably wants you to do something about it?”

Arthur groaned. He had feared that that might be the case.

“Do I have too?” he whined

“Unless you want to try to get Lilibet to intervene in politics I’d say yes. Or you could let all of those cubs become soulless husks.”

Arthur hit the table and stood quickly “Brilliant idea my lovey! I’ll just ask Lilibet to talk to them!”

Alistair’s hand met his face in excertion.

Arthur made his way to the drawing room of Buckingham Palace with a crack.

The Queen was standing in the middle of the room. Which was odd. She was usually in her study.

“Lilibet! Darling!” He bent down and kissed both her cheeks in greeting. The human woman was so tiny. It was adorable. “How are you my sweet.”

“Quite well Arthur my dear. And you?”

Arthur brushed her question off

“Anyway. So, I was wondering.”

“No.”

Arthur gasped. “But I haven’t even asked yet?”

“Is it to do with politics?”

Arthur hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Then the answer is no. One is a constitutional monarch Artie. We do not intervene in such matters.”

“Well yes but….”

“If it is so important then you can ask the Prime Minister. Speaking of the man.”

A servant came in and announced “The Prime Minister to see your majesty.” Seeing Arthur he added “And your Grace.”

Arthur’s eyes widened and he had a hushed quick conversation. “No.” he said

“Yes”

“Nope.”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“N-”

Prime Minister John Major walked into the room. He went to bow to the Queen before noticing the other presence in the room.

“Well isn’t this an occasion. Both in the same room. Whom am I to greet first then? My Queen? Or my Country?”

“Major.” Arthur nodded at him.

“Lord England. I am delighted that you have decided to grace me with your presence.”

England twitched. For such a boring man he sure was able to vex.

“I was just wondering about the dementors. Scotland as well.”

“I’m afraid I don’t really find it my business to oversee the works of the Ministry of Magic. You’ll have to take it up with Cornelius himself.”

England’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Well I best be off then. Leave you two to your audience.”

He kissed his Queen’s cheek again before cracking away.

Scotland was still reading his book when England arrived back, though he’d stolen his rum.

“No luck?”

“Shut up Scot.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank god for randomly appearing children. That sounded wrong even in Harry’s head.

Leo led him through numerous corridors and down at least two flights of stairs before opening a door to the dining room. Sat at the massive table was Seán along with three men who appeared to be in their twenties. Looking at them Harry shivered. He didn’t know exactly why. But all of his instincts were telling him to run or at the very least submit.

A blond man was sat at one end of the table, a red head at the other. In the centre sat a man with strawberry blonde hair who was periodically glaring at his companions. His eyes appeared to be oddly turquoise in colour. Opposite him sat Seán who waved. Leo went to sit next to the younger boy.

“Lord Potter.” The blonde-haired man spoke “Please sit. It’s a full British.”

The red head snorted in amusement.

Harry took the seat offered to him, next to the strawberry-blond haired man. His plate appeared in front of him, filled with sausages, eggs, beans, haggis, black pudding and nips and tatties. He noticed that he was the only one to get tomatoes as well. Harry kept his eyes on his plate as he dug in.

“Thank you for taking me in Sir.”

“Yes well. I couldn’t very well leave you knocked out on my carpet. You were dirty.”

Harry laughed. Then he realised that the man was absolutely serious. “Right. Yeah. Of course not.”

The breakfast was tense for Harry to say the least.

“I was just wondering. You seem to know me. What are your names?”

The red-haired man answered. “Alistair. That’s Arthur and that’s Dylan. You’ve already met Leonard and Seán.”

The silence returned. The only disturbance being the eating and the massive tension between the three adults in the room.

“Right. Nice to meet you all.”

When they’d finally all finished Harry nearly cried with joy as Arthur rose and gestured at him to follow him.

“Where am I sending you then?” He asked as they left the room.

Harry assumed that meant they’d be apparating. “The Burrow please.”

Arthur looked at him blankly.

“The Weasley family lives there.”

Arthur looked him dead in the eyes for a minute before.

“Oooh. Alright then. Ta ra! I hope to never see you again!”

“He-!” Harry was cut off by a claw to his head and a flash of light. Then he was in the burrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alistair was bored. Not that that was particularly new. After the first 200 years of life the majority of one’s time was spent mind-numbingly bored. Alistair chucked the book he was reading over his shoulder as he made his way over to the grand staircase. He figured that he might as well piss off his bastard of a husband and their half-brother by playing the bagpipes. Though unfortunately Arthur had become seemingly immune to them over the past century. Alistair still remembered the days when he'd throw a knife or five at him at the slightest hint of bagpipes. Those were the days.

As he turned around on the staircase, he came face to face with possibly the least surprising thing he’d ever see. Arthur Kirkland-Beilschmidt. The Kingdom of England. The great British Empire. Was drunkenly balancing on the banister.

“What are you doing?” Alistair said deadpan.

“Balancing.”

“Uhuh. You realise you have wings don’t you husband?”

“Mhm.” Arthur vaulted over himself and landed on his hands.

“For a genius you’re a fucking idiot.”

“An idiot who managed to conquer half the fucking world my dear.”

“A quarter at most. And you managed to lose it. Every, single, colony.”

“Oops.”

“Is that what you said when you allowed that twin of yours to massacre millions?”

A crackle filled the air and Scotland felt a shiver run down his spine. Evidently his half-joke had hit a nerve. He was reminded that while England may have lost almost all of his [their] empire he was still one of the most powerful Illumin to have ever walked upon this planet. Argentina had found that out the hard way. Before he could blink a clawed hand wrapped around his neck and giant canines bared down at him.

“Do not speak of him.” England hissed. “You forget dear husband. I was the first to sign the death warrants of billions with my failures and my successes. I’ve seen tens of thousands of dead at my own claws. You know that better than most. If you wish to speak ill of genocidal maniacs perhaps you should look closer to home and farther from the dead.”

“What happened in 1000 was not your fault. Though I doubt you will ever believe me on that. And you and I both know we’re better off without the witch, and her spawn.”

The hand dropped from his neck.

“We’re her spawn too brother.”

“Indeed. Though luckily for us we’re not pure Kirklands.”

“Hmmm. I’d always thought it was more a celt thing than a Kirkland one.”

“If that was the case don’t you think I’d have burned more people alive than I have.”

Arthur snorted “Fair.”

“Speaking of genocidal maniacs. Our most recent one’s coming back.”

Arthur groaned. “I know. You don’t have to remind me every two seconds.”

“Don’t you think we’ve let him kill enough of our people?”

“Why do you think I care? What’s a couple of thousand humans to me?”

“Nothing at all. Well. Something at all. If you really didn’t give a shit Lily Evans would never have been born.”

“How do you know I didn’t simply find her grandmother hot.”

“I have no doubt you did. But then directing me to her mother…Two generations of a pureblood Illumin sire. The witch was likely more Illumin than human. And then Tom Riddle was swept away by her son. You cannot call that a coincidence.”

“I’m sorting it ok Alistair. Stop your worrying and get back to your bloody bagpipes will you. I ought to have killed you when I had the chance.”

“You should have, in all likelihood. But you didn’t. Time and time again you haven’t. If I didn’t know any better, I’d even say you loved me dear husband.”

Arthur sneer-smiled at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’d call it a misplaced fondness at best.”

Against his will Alistair felt his lips twitch upwards. He made his way past Arthur towards his bagpipe room. He’d formed quite the collection over the centuries. Before Arthur started getting any ideas about their relationship he shouted behind his back.

“By the way I want a divorce!”

“FUCK OFF AND DIE ALREADY YOU CELTISH TWAT!”

“BURN ALIVE YOU GERMAN CUNT!”

Alistair snorted.


End file.
